


Kaleidoscope

by moegan



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bellarke, F/M, Soulmates, Soulmates AU, aka when you meet your soulmate you see in color au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:42:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moegan/pseuds/moegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bellamy knows what its like to watch your parent's lose their color vision // clarke's parents have always seen in color // what happens when everything goes wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> first bellarke fic so i hope you guys enjoy! :) also, first ao3 fanfic, so bear with!! comments/suggestions/helpful hints are welcomed!! happy reading! x

Bellamy had heard stories about those who can see in color. His science teacher explained it in a way of hormones releasing certain cones and rods in your irises whenever you turned a certain age, his psychology teacher taught it as he believed it – when you found your soulmate, something clicked and your whole world changed.  
His mother could see in color for a while. She told him all about it, and that’s how she came to be such a great seamstress, how she could tell the smallest of color differences. Not only because they’re taught which shades of gray are which colors, but because she could see.  
  
Aurora Blake could see color.  
  
That alone gave Bellamy hope. But then it started to fade.  
  
At first it was just duller, she explained, and then one day she swapped out orange and red threat and the people at the market demanded to be given their points back because of the slip up. He watched as her husband calmed her and told her in a quiet voice: “It’s okay, darling, some people just can’t see color like we do.”  
So, when Bellamy and Aurora got home that night and sang Octavia to sleep, he asked her.  
  
“Momma?” he sidled next to her on the bed, watching as his sister slept soundly in his sleeping space. Aurora looked up from where she was sat in front of her sewing machine, “Yes, Bell?” He picks at his fingernails and cuticles because he’s sure that he shouldn’t be asking her this, but he’s curious and he’s nine years old and he’s Bellamy, so of course he’s going to ask.  
  
“Are you okay, mom?”  
  
It’s strange how such a short sentence can rip apart someone’s world.  
  
Aurora begins crying, but stifles it so Octavia won’t awaken. “Yes,” she responds, “I’m fine, Bell. I’m fine. Are you?” He shrugs, leaning into her so their thighs are touching because he knows his mother and he knows she doesn’t want to be comforted. “I was fine until I saw you today,” he murmurs, his head cocked to the side, “where’s your color going?”  
  
A sad laugh echoes in the room and Aurora tips her head back, “It’s…it’s fading, Bellamy. And – don’t tell your sister this – but I’m afraid.” Bellamy knows what she’s afraid of, even though he shouldn’t because he’s nine, but he knows. He knows what might happen if those in the guard find out. If they find out that his mother isn’t of as much use to them anymore because of the lack of color in her vision, Octavia could possibly no longer be a secret.  
  
“It’s okay momma,” he manages a smile because it’s what his mother needs, “because when I get to see color I’ll help you. You’ll just have to teach me the hard stuff like threading a needle.”  
  
This time her grin isn’t sad or hopeless, there’s a small light that flashes in her irises and Bellamy notices that the smile reaches her eyes. He hardly gets to see his mother’s dimples.  
  
“All right,” Aurora agrees, “I’ll teach you.”  
  
And so, while Octavia breathes slow and steady and safely, Bellamy and Aurora stay up as long as they can keep their eyes open and she teaches him how to thread a needle and he reminds her how to laugh.  
  


♔

When she was only three, Clarke’s father told her stories of magical lands and distant worlds where everyone saw in color. Jake always believed that everyone deserved to see in color. Clarke believed what Jake believed, but she was only three.

Clarke wondered how her dad came to see in color, and he always tells her about the day when he was in the eleventh grade in a politics class and Abigail Staten stood up and opposed his entire speech. He said that day it was like fireworks exploded in front of him, and the first thing he saw was the sprinkling of light tan freckles across the bridge of Abby’s nose.

Jake continues to talk about how her hair slowly came into focus and then her eyes – he always sighs at that part – and continues to her lips and then he saw the color of her clothing and realized she was wearing the color green. His favorite color was green.

Then he tells Clarke about how as soon as she sat down and the bell rang and then the weekend happened that the color faded almost as if it never happened at all. Jake goes on to explain that on Monday he sought out Abby to be his partner for an Agriculture assignment because she was so much smarter than he was, but he was better with words than she was, and so together they could win the only A that would be given out that semester.

And he speaks about how with every day that they spent together the colors grew and flourished right in front of his eyes as if he was watching the universe paint a canvas. And he tells Clarke of how at the end of that semester when they do win the only A in the class he admitted to Abby that he saw in color. He also explains that when she blushed and leaned forward to kiss him square on the mouth that was the only confirmation he needed that she saw in color too.

Clarke always knew her parents saw in color, because they were talking to one another in shades she didn’t even understand. In school as a young girl, she only learned the shades of gray that represented: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, black, white, grey, and brown. There was nothing intricate about that. But, even so, Clarke started drawing. Everyone told her it would be hopeless. It started in mid-grade when she had to keep herself awake by doodling in the margins of her notebooks, and then it grew.

Wells encouraged her, of course. He didn’t see in color, he assured her, but he wanted her to be happy. Her mother didn’t approve of it at all, but Jake, used some of his ration points to buy charcoal and a couple sheets of paper when she turned thirteen.

And even though Clarke couldn’t see in color, she dreamt of it every day.

♔

As the story goes, everyone is born with no ability to see in color. It isn’t a genetics thing, or a hormonal thing, but a psycho-emotional thing. When a person makes eye contact with their soulmate, the color starts out faded, dull, and then grows with every moment spent together since then. The color never totally fades unless your soulmate dies, it only dims as the days wear on.

So how do Bellamy and Clarke get to see in color?

It takes time.


	2. 0.1 - grayscale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've already written the first chapter so i figured -- why not post it?! so i hope you guys enjoy :) as always, never hesitate to talk to me!! i'm also on [lilhemmo.tumblr.com](http://lilhemmo.tumblr.com)!! happy reading x

“You act like we’ve never seen that game before,” Wells scoffs, handing over a five dollar bill. Clarke smiles, putting it together with her own five dollar bill. They’re both specifically for the Saturdays that they watch the _same_ soccer game. One day while she was exploring after her night shift as the hospital intern, she found them tucked away underneath a large shelving unit near the guard station. Of course because they don’t use real currency anymore, Clarke was sure no one would miss them.

Now, just as they do every Saturday, they bet oppositely so someone always has ten dollars. It’s only fair that way, and they even act as if they don’t already know how the game is going to play out. The bills are worn and ripped along the edges, but it’s tradition and neither Clarke nor Wells want to retire their ritual.

“You act like _you_ have never seen that game before,” Clarke chuckles as she tucks away the two bills underneath a book. “And you act as if you didn’t already know what was going to happen.”

As Wells rolls his eyes, he reaches forward for the chess board, putting it on the center table in front of the couch. He always takes the floor, Clarke always takes the couch. He blames it on the fact that she’s six months younger than him and she uses her age to her advantage. Even so, he never argues.

Thelonious Jaha, the Chancellor of the Ark, walks into the living room, “So who won this time?”

Both of the teenagers freeze, wondering if maybe he’s found out about the currency that Clarke had found. When he notices their posture, Chancellor grins, “I’m assuming you haven’t played the chess game yet?”

Clarke is the first to unfurl, her limbs becoming fluid once more, “Oh, yeah,” a chuckle is forced past her lips as she glances between the chess board and the Chancellor, “but we all know whose going to win.” Her pointed stare goes to Wells this time, and he shrugs, “I can’t help that I’m better than you.”

“Maybe,” she concedes, “or maybe I’m just giving you a false sense of security before I rip your little chess world out from under you.”

Wells scoffs, beginning to lay out the pieces.

# ♔

 

“Patrol duty?” Aurora raises her eyebrows, “That’s an improvement.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I was afraid Shumway would have me sweeping and mopping for the rest of my career.” Octavia giggles, “At least you smell clean.” He narrows his irises to a glare, and he brings his hands in front of him and arches his back down so he looks like a prowling animal, “What was that, O?”

She shrugs, not phased at all by his little act, “Sometimes you smell dirty. At least whenever you were on cleaning duty you smelled like soap.” The small smirk does not go unnoticed by Bellamy as he creeps up on his sister.

“I’m gonna get you for that!” he smiles as he lunges at her, gripping her sides and tickling her ribs. In response, she squeals, throwing her head back so her dark hair swishes with the movement. “Patrol duty means no more piggy back rides for you, little miss!” Bellamy shouts as he tackles her to his bed and tickles her until she can’t breathe.

Aurora’s voice cuts through the banter, “Be quiet!”

Bellamy looks up, away from his sister and towards the door where the handle is rattling. Ever since his mother’s vision has been fading there has been less intel about guard rotations and check-ups in the Factory station.

Octavia’s eyes are clouded with fear, pupils wide and frightened.

“O,” Bellamy’s voice is soothing, “get under the floor.”

It doesn’t take her long to scramble to the floor board that can be lifted so she can hide underneath it. Her fourteen year old legs are starting to get cramped, but somehow she and her little red bow and her raggedy bunny make it under before the door can twist open.

“Theo,” Aurora’s gasp tumbles from her lips.

“Hello, Aurora.”

And there, in their doorway, stands Thelonious Jaha, Chancellor of the Ark.

# ♔

  
Her parents have been arguing a lot recently. Clarke hoped that it would be a happy time because it _was_ her seventeenth birthday, but there’s been nothing but intense glaring contests that Abby always wins and short, clipped responses that always make Jake stand straighter. She wonders if maybe their color is fading.

Can soulmates just _stop_ being soulmates?

“Not in front of Clarke,” Abby mutters, pulling Jake into the confines of their room.

Rolling her eyes, Clarke calls out, “I’m going to sleep! Thanks for the cake.”

There’s an echo of apologies and such, but she doesn’t pay it any mind. Things have been far too tense for far too long, and it’s becoming a nuisance. Clarke walks to her room and leans against the wall that’s closest to her parents, her ear pressed up to the gray surface.

“It isn’t safe, and it isn’t fair,” Jake’s voice is garbled. Abby’s stern tone quips, “Well it isn’t our place to make such a decision, Jacob.”

“People will _die_ , Abigail!” he returns, and Clarke winces. Both are in good with Chancellor Jaha, and Clarke knows that her parents are doing some classified things that she can’t know about, but things that have to do with people dying? For a moment she wonders about all the people who would lose their color vision because their soulmate dies, and then she disregards that totally and just thinks of all the blood that could possibly be on her parent’s hands.

Without another thought, Clarke tears out of her room and slips out the front door. Her parents don’t even noticed between their bickering. Recently they’ve been having some difficulty with the security cameras and so Clarke knows exactly where she can walk and not get caught. She takes the route towards the large window in one side of the station.

Clarke stands still for a long time, it’s easy. She doesn’t even know that there are tears wetting her cheeks until a shooting star passes close by and she’s forced to move her gaze. A sniffle escapes and she’s quick to cover it up, even though there is no one nearby to hear.

If there are people that will die and she can stop it, she wants to. She wants to do what is right, what is best for the people of the Ark. It isn’t fair to anyone to have to die, not when things are already as difficult as they are. Any infraction is led to someone being floated.

“Arrest me,” she mumbles, hearing the footsteps.

A deep laugh resonates behind her, but it seems hollow in the empty hallways, “I’m not here to arrest you, princess.”

The name strikes her somewhere and it hurts, this person doesn’t even know her. She refuses to look at him, she’s crying and no one should have to be subject to seeing her this way. “Then what are you here to do?” she asks, reaching up to wipe at her eyes.

Footsteps sound but he keeps his distance, “I’m on patrol, but I come here because it’s a nice place to think.” She nods, agreeing in silence as her head tips back just slightly enough that she feels like she can breathe again.

“I doubt I could arrest you anyways,” his tone notes a hint of resentment, but mostly just him being amused. His voice is nice, smooth and deep, and she wants to turn around but something tells her that she shouldn’t. He’s also standing directly behind her so she can’t see his reflection in the glass window in front of her.

“Why’s that?” asks Clarke, biting her lip.

Somehow she can _feel_ his shrug, “You’re the youngest doctor and one of the best. I know you, I’ve seen you on my patrol before. And you’re best friends with the Chancellors son.”

Clarke scoffs, indignance rolling off of her in a wave so strong she thinks she hears his footstep echo backwards, “Oh, so because of Wells I get special treatment?”

“No,” he’s quick to respond, “you’re a valuable asset. _That_ is why you’re not going to be arrested. That’s why you’ve never been arrested.”

Nodding her head, Clarke concedes.

“You’re smart,” she tells him.

He chuckles, and she decides it’s a sound she would like to hear often, “You’re smart too. So, I’m going to turn around and continue patrolling the empty hallways for someone who is _actually_ causing trouble. And I hope you feel better and deal with whatever it is you’re dealing with, princess.”

For some reason, she feels like the name holds some form of affection. But before she can confront him, he’s done exactly what he said, and he’s gone.

Suddenly space feels very cold, very alone.

# ♔

  
Bellamy is putting a thread through the eye of a needle when he finally gets up the guts to ask his mother why Thelonious Jaha came to their house months ago.  Aurora drops the needle in her hand but quickly rights herself and picks it up, her face clear and clean of emotion.

“He was just stopping by to say hello,” she shrugs it off too easily for Bellamy. “You know, trying to be hospitable and do the whole ‘nice-chancellor’ thing – talking to the poor people, reminding them that he’s taking care of them.”

“Why are you lying?”

Aurora’s fingers go limp in her lap as her head hangs. Bellamy is too old for this, he’s twenty-one now and he’s been with his mother for too long to _not_ know when something is wrong. And he’s sick and tired of wondering why for the past six months, Jaha makes a stop by their room on his way to do other, more important things.

“He’s the reason,” her voice comes out in a cracked whisper.

Bellamy twists his head in confusion, dark eyebrows pulling together, “Excuse me?”

Octavia stirs from where she’s sleeping in Bellamy’s bed, but a short pet to her hair and a kiss to the head does the trick and she’s still once more. When he returns to his spot at the table, the determined look etched into his features hasn’t left or wavered.

“Color,” whispers his mother, “he’s the reason I see color.”

It makes sense, though, the second she says it. Aurora has been talking of how her colored vision has been fading, how she’s been being mistreated in the exchange center, and how the guards are treating her even worse now.

And then suddenly, the talk just _stopped_.

Bellamy’s mother no longer had trouble seeing the colors of thread in their usual light from before her vision began to dull, and she stopped asking him to thread the needles for her even though he insisted he do it anyways.

“Oh,” is all he can say.

# ♔

 

“Jake Griffin,” Thelonious Jaha announces, “you are arrested for treason. Due to this infraction, you will be floated in twenty-four hours. General Shumway will lead you to your cell.”

All Clarke can see is black.

Her tears blur her vision and the only image that she can conjure up is her father being dragged away from their housing unit with two guards on either of his arms. Screams are caught in her throat, burning the ridges of her esophagus. Her mother does nothing, Abigail Griffin stands stoic as if this were going to happen and she’s just been waiting.

Clarke hates her mother in that moment.

There’s three guards standing in the hallway, and when she catches the eye of the one to the farthest left, a searing pain jolts down her spine and she has to hold her head in her hands. Clarke blames it on the pressing of the heels of her palms into her eyes, but she swears she sees a flash of color. She blames it on the crying and the hysteria and the anger, but deep down, she knows there’s something else.

# ♔

  
“I’m sorry sweetie,” Aurora says in her deadened voice, “it’s just what has to be done.”

Octavia is almost in tears, because she’s slept in Bellamy’s bed for the past sixteen years, and now she’s being forced to spend almost all of her time under the floor. She only comes up for meals, and even then it’s only the nasty gray paste – everything’s gray, though – and some water.

Instead of bucking the order, Octavia nods, grabbing her bunny and her ribbon, and starts shuffling to stuff herself into the floorboards.

Then the knock comes.

Bellamy’s eyes get wide and he silently notions for Octavia to speed up her trip to beneath the floorboards. She nods in agreement as Aurora goes to answer the door. Just as it opens, the floorboard is shut and Octavia is snuck silently inside. Bellamy knows what she does, how she survives it. His mother taught her, and he’s been repeating it every time O wakes up from a nightmare.

_Say it to yourself, I am not afraid. I am not afraid. I am not afraid._

He even finds that it soothes his dark dreams late at night sometimes.

“General Shumway,” Aurora nods, looking back at Bellamy, still in his guard uniform. “What a nice surprise.”

She grins and lets him into the doorway, a nicety that she _has_ to afford every member of the guard. Shumway nods and bows at the waist slightly, looking directly at Bellamy.

“Blake,” Shumway calls, “you remember the floating we have today?”

_Of course I remember,_ Bellamy thinks to himself, _how could I forget? I still have the headache._

“Yes sir,” he nods, giving him a two fingered salute. Shumway grins, looking at Bellamy as if he were his own son. “Well, we want you to witness your first floating today, Cadet Blake,” Shumway explains, a proud smile on his face.

“Oh,” Bellamy is taken aback.

Shumway says something to Aurora, and suddenly Bellamy’s eyes are caught on the little red ribbon that is peeking out from beneath the floor and his heart jumps into his throat. The officer looks to the young boy, expecting a further answer, some excitement, or at least a form of enthusiasm, but receives nothing but a wide-eyed look.

“Well?” Shumway prods.

Bellamy is still silent. He stands, putting his foot over the ribbon so no one would notice or take attention to the fact that he’s hiding something. He shrugs, “I-I don’t know if I’m ready for a floating yet, sir.”

The officer’s eyebrows shoot up, as if this is offensive, “Excuse me?”

Aurora is glaring Bellamy down, her eyes wide and lips set in a thin line, “Bellamy.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, his eyes falling to the floor where his sister remains hidden underneath his boots, “But I just don’t think I’m ready to watch someone die yet. Maybe next time.”

Shumway stands straighter, his back aligned and his feet together, and gives Bellamy a salute, even though there’s no reason for such behavior due to Bellamy’s rank. He feels as if maybe it’s a form of mockery, but decides not to give it much thought because after Shumway leaves the room, Bellamy finally feels like he can _breathe._

He moves his foot off of the red ribbon and when Aurora’s eyes connect with the fabric, tears spring to her lids and she begins to tremble. Bellamy’s name tumbles from her lips and she falls to her knees on the ground and strokes the few inches of ribbon poking from underneath the ground.

“Octavia,” she whispers, and the little voice comes from under the floor in response: “Yes?”

And in that moment, Bellamy feels like everything might be okay.

# ♔

  
“They’re killing my dad today, Wells,” Clarke’s voice trembles. Her hands are shaking and her eyes are burning, but she refuses to cry. It’s strange, that she doesn’t want to cry even though her dad is dying today. She doesn’t want to show the Chancellor or Vice Chancellor Kane that they’ve won; even that stupid Shumway guard. Clarke stubbornly doesn’t want any of them to know that what they’re doing affects her.

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” his voice is troubled as he pulls her head to his chest. She wraps her arms around him and stuffs her face into the shoulder of his gray jacket as she waits for them to bring her father into the room where he’ll be released into space. Wells repeats himself, “I’m so sorry.”

Ten minutes later, Abby walks in first with tear tracks down her face and a terrible case of quivers. Two guards hold Jake on either side of his arms, although he looks like he’s walking willingly, and they usher him in front of the small glass box that holds his future.

“Dad,” whispers Clarke.

Suddenly, Jake is thrown back years in time when Clarke first said his name, how he could see her blonde hair and how it curled, and her blue eyes and how they sparkled. He isn’t sure if she’ll ever be able to see herself as he has for the past seventeen years, but he hopes so. Jake prays that Clarke will find someone who will allow her to see in color, to fully understand how beautiful life is.

He glances at his wife one final time before turning his attention to his daughter. Clarke watches as he peels the watch off of his left hand, and the gold necklace around his neck with a small stone hanging in the middle of his chest.

“Officer?” Jake questions, raising his eyebrow at the man holding onto his left elbow.

The man nods his head, and both release him and Clarke rushes forward to him and throws her arms around his neck. Her tears catch up with her and suddenly his shirt is soaked through. They’ve yet to strip him of his clothes, as they often do because waste is unnecessary on the Ark, and so she watches every salt droplet catch on the navy blue fabric of his engineering uniform.

“Honey,” he murmurs into the crook of her neck. Clarke pulls away from him to stand in front, facing him. Jake smiles, and Clarke hates everything because she’ll never be able to see her father in color. She’ll never see how his face lights up or the exact color of his eyes or the shade of skin he has or…or _anything_.

“It’s okay,” says Jake. His hands rub over Clarke’s shoulders before one hand connects with her wrist, “I want you to have this, okay? Keep your mother on time for me.”

Somehow he manages a chuckle and Clarke hates _him_ for being able to be so jovial in this time.

A small silent pause stands between the two of them, as if neither knows what to say or how to say what they want to say. And then, Clarke mumbles, “I’m going to miss you.” And tears flow freely again and Jake latches the watch onto her left wrist and hugs her one last time before the officers pry them away from one another.

Jake is ushered into the box and he manages one last whispering of “I love you.” before he’s thrown into the unknown.

Clarke forgets how to breathe, and wonders if that’s how her father felt as he floated.

# ♔

  
Bellamy has spent too many nights protecting Octavia for it to be undone so easily, so swiftly.

After being demoted to a janitorial role on the Ark, Bellamy spent three months of night shifts sweating at the thought of his sister being discovered, of his mother being floated just for having another child. He sees visions of Octavia being thrown into a prison cell, a number stamped across her hand, and the time ticking down to her eighteenth birthday when they can float her for just being in existence. He swears he sees his mother yelling his name as the guards he used to work with drag her into the sky box to be floated into the oblivion of space.

And then it happens.

Guards come in unannounced and Octavia was waiting up for him until five in the morning so they could read a morning mythology story together and they _took_ her.

Bellamy came in just as they were ushering both Octavia and Aurora down the hallways towards the prison cells. Of course, Aurora will be immediately floated. There is no other option. Octavia is a minor, so they will give her until her eighteenth birthday, and _then_ she will be floated.

Sweat gathers on his temple as he watches helplessly, knowing that getting himself killed by retaliating won’t help his sister.

_My sister, my responsibility._

The words echo in his head as he watches his mother and his sister pulled to their near end.

 

# ♔

  
It takes about an hour to decide to float Aurora Blake.

Bellamy and Octavia are allowed to say goodbyes, and then his sister is ushered into her prison cell where she will wait.

Aurora is walked into the skybox with no more words, no more courtesy, and Bellamy almost assaults a guard for pressing his fingers into a bruise on his mother’s skin.

“Bellamy,” Aurora warns, “my life is meaningless now. Don’t do the same for yourself. I love you.”

He barely manages to push the words past his sick lips in return before she’s thrown into the metal box and the doors shut. His hands press against the glass and he wishes he could break it open and drag her out and take every single guard to their grave to keep his mother alive. Her knowing deep, dark eyes say words to him he could never force out from his throat.

And then, Aurora Blake is tossed into the abyss.

# ♔

  
Three months.

Three months Clarke Griffin has spent in this prison cell.

Three months she’s wondered when she’ll be released, when they will realize that she was simply trying to do the Ark a favor.

Three months without her father.

Of course Clarke discovered what Jake was trying to do. The Ark is no longer able to recycle air and produce oxygen, five hundred years prior to the original end date. Of course they hoped that by then the Earth would be survivable.

Clarke found her father’s old video tapes. She found her mother’s secret lab with radiation victims sequestered inside. She found the results. She found what was happened.

Clarke discovered the _truth_.

And she thought that everyone else deserved to know just as much as she did.

Before she could air her father’s videos, before she could tell the Ark’s population, _she_ was discovered.

And so here she sits, in a prison cell.

Clarke only knows it has been three months because every time she wakes up and there is a new day, she marks it on the wall. There are ninety-five marks, so that’s roughly three months. Which means she only has eight months left in this prison cell. And then she’ll join Jake in space.

Until the alarm.

Suddenly everyone is rushing around. Guards are opening cells, removing the youth from inside. Clarke’s cell is opened but no one comes to collect her, so she walks out to see the chaos.

Nothing but gray bodies rushing everywhere, voices shouting and reprimanding. Teenagers running around, trying to get away. There are a few that manage to fall from the high floors of the prison to their deaths below.

Clarke’s shoulders are drawn around and she sees her mother’s face for the first time in three months.

“Honey,” Abby breathes, her eyes wide with fear but something else Clarke can’t quite make out.

Her voice is hoarse, “Mom? What’s going on? What are they doing? They’re letting us out, people are running around, guards are—”

“Clarke.” Abby’s voice is pointed, and her daughter is silenced. With a breath, she manages one final sentence before Clarke is ushered away: “Clarke, you’re going to _the ground_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> what did you think?  
> don't be afraid to check me out here at [lilhemmo.tumblr.com](http://lilhemmo.tumblr.com)!!


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